Kylo Ren/Adam Driver One-Shot Collection

Kiss it Better - Vicrul

Part two of Pokerface

Pairing: Vicrul x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Switch!Vicrul, Depictions of abuse, Emotional sex, Power play, Fighting for dominance, Banter, Choking, Gagging, Praising and degradation, Slapping, Spitting, Fluff, L-bombs.

Summary: The Supreme Leader had embarked on a quest to Mustafar to locate a sith-way finder, leaving you under the supervision of Vicrul.

***

The TIE Fighters control manual was peeling and tarnished. The words, that were meant to inform you of the ships mechanics, were all just tethered scribbles that bled together, splaying scrambled words like it was an incohesive jigsaw puzzle.

You groaned spitefully, your shoulders slouching in exasperation. "You've got to be kriffing kidding me." You murmured gruffly, sighing through pouty lips, to wisp the tousled baby hairs out of your torridly-flushed cheeks.

The panel door hissed, whirring open briskly, and you only sunk deeper into your seat, flashing Vicrul a hostile glare from over your shoulder as he trudged through the breached corridor.

His gloved fingers feathered through your scalp, petting your unruly hair. "What's the princess fussing about now?" He released a hefty, grizzly sigh, plopping down into the leather seat adjacent to you with a grunt.

You scowled, swatting his hand away and arduously thrashed your heavy, fatigued limbs. For the past tedious-ticking hours— 0400 to be exact— Vicrul had been acquired to assess your piloting skills. Kylo sought off on a consequential expedition on Mustafar, and pardon his absence, he suggested that you adapt to the First Orders machinery and the mechanics of the shuttles.

Although begrudgingly, you obliged to his earnest demands. He expressed his enthusiasm about it, nearly pleading you to practice steering a TIE, and how to maneuver it through compacted space-traffic. Only the stars could fathom the horrendous dynamic of your piloting.

"Are you just going to give me the silent treatment?" Vicrul scoffed, a shaggy strand of his sandy-brown hair billowing into his contorted face.

You cocked a sagacious brow, pursing your lips in consideration, as you shimmied around in your swiveling chair.

"Hm." He jeered, rummaging through the contents of his trousers. "I'll just eat the last piece of Jogan fruit, then." He mused, dauntingly bringing the fresh, violet, prickly fruit towards his curling lips.

You whined dramatically, grumbling brash curses under your breath, as you narrowed your eyes at him and pursed your lips into a dull line.

His teeth were only a millimeter away from crunching into the fruit— your favorite fruit, that the cafeteria had a limited supply of due to the exotic location of Lothal that it originated from— his eyebrows wiggling perniciously, a prudent smirking tugging at his lips.

"Vic." You warned, and he barked out a poised snicker. "Don't you dare bite into that."

He cocked an irking brow, just as his pearly front teeth started sinking into the fruit, purple juices spilling from the corner of his lips.

You bolted from the seat and lunged at him like a feral, wild animal, cackling sardonically through a strained breath as you rustled with him, climbing into his lap. The seat groaned and belched beneath you, croaking and chirping, as Vicrul wailed in amusement.